Freak
by Kristinexists
Summary: High school AU where Jean is a jerkface bully and Marco is just trying to survive high school, until a new group of people begin to push Marco around, much to Jean's disdain. Thus starts an interesting dynamic between the football player and the freak, setting off a chain of events no one involved will ever forget. Jeanmarco with a side of Yumikuri.
1. Most Days

"History, history, history…come on, where are you?" Jean Kirstein muttered to himself, sifting through his incredibly unruly locker. It was only the second week of his junior year of high school, and he'd already managed to turn his locker into a danger zone, flooded with notes he'd never look at again and fraying textbooks.

"Heeeey! Jean!" Jean didn't bother to look up.

"What'd you want, Springer? I'm gonna be late for second period," he said, exasperated.

"Duude, how much shit d' you have packed in there?" the owner of the chipper voice, Connie Springer, asked, nudging his friend playfully.

"Says the guy with a two month old PB&J in his bag," retorted Jean, rolling his eyes as papers flew everywhere, as he frantically searched for his history book. Mr. Ackerman wasn't exactly the most forgiving when it came to tardiness.

"And the mold hasn't even spread to my math homework yet. So who's the real winner here?"

"Uh, no one, dumbass," Jean replied, sighing in relief as he finally spotted his book at the bottom of his locker. Picking it up and slamming the door, he began to head toward his class.

"Aren't you gonna pick up these papers?" Connie called after him.

"We have custodians for a reason!" Jean called back, "Now hurry up or we'll be late!"

Shrugging, Connie bounded down the hallway after his friend. The two managed to make it to their seats, just as the bell signaling the start of class rang.

"Class!" Jean's head snapped to the front of the classroom where a short man with a black undercut and an apathetic look stood. The room went silent immediately. Mr. Ackerman commanded full attention at all times during lectures, and none of the student body liked to deal with the consequences of upsetting him. The last time someone had interrupted him, they'd gotten janitorial duty detention for a month. Most teachers you could fuck around with now and then. Levi Ackerman wasn't one of them.

"The agenda today is this: I'm going to hand back everyone's quizzes from last week; thankfully they didn't suck nearly as much as I was expecting them to. Then we'll begin the chapter with a little group discussion. You can see your assigned groups on the board behind me. Any questions?" There was none, which was fairly typical of the class. Jean looked to where his name sat on the whiteboard. He'd be with Ymir; not terrible, Bertholdt Fubar; okay,…he groaned at the next name on the list though: Marco Bodt; The freckle faced kid that sat two rows in front of him, and who was probably the dorkiest kid in the entirety of Trost High. Actually, a lot of people thought that the guy was flat-out creepy, Jean included.

Marco was one of those weird kids that hung out in the corner of the multi-purpose room before school, listening to angry music. He wore the same nasty grey hoodie to school almost every day. Jean wondered if the kid even washed the thing. He didn't really ever talk to anyone in school either; save for fellow dork, Armin Arlert; a fairly nice kid with a terrible haircut. Armin happened to be childhood friends with the captains of the football team and cheer squad, however, and so, he was off-limits as far as mockery went.

One time, in seventh grade, Marco had tried to hold Jean's hand during a middle school dance. Jean, of course had told the whole school about the incident, branding Marco as a permanent faggot and outcast. Jean didn't actually know if Marco really was gay or not; he hadn't dated anyone in his entire high school existence as far as Jean was aware. However, everyone made fun of Marco for the incident, anyway, as did he. It was simply the norm, and the creep had it coming as far as Jean was concerned, anyway.

Mr. Ackerman walked by, suddenly, placing a sheet of paper on Jean's desk. It was, as he had said, last week's quiz. Jean shrugged, noting his grade (a C+), and tucked the paper into the back of his textbook.

"Alright," Mr. Ackerman said, after he'd passed out everyone's quizzes, "I want you to move into the groups I've put you in, and compare chapter notes for about ten minutes, while I step out to make a phone call. If I find out that you were messing around or doing anything _other_ than comparing notes in your groups, the entire class is going to be subject to the extra questions for chapter four next week. _So behave._" Jean saw him glaring particularly at Connie and their friend Sasha, who sat nearby.

Everyone began to move into groups under Mr. Ackerman's watchful gaze, before he exited the classroom. No one dared move out of their groups, in fear of what would happen, lest their teacher return early. No one would put it past him to drop in seconds after, just to see if the class was, indeed, doing as told. However, it was doubtful that the groups would be talking about schoolwork the entire time. Even Mr. Ackerman had to know that much, considering that he'd left them alone.

Jean's eyes flicked Marco Bodt, who had moved to sit across from him, the back of the desk chair against his stomach. He was wearing his trademark grey hoodie and looking down at his hands, which clutched the back of the seat, nervously.

"So, did you guys even actually take the chapter notes?" asked Ymir, sitting beside Jean.

"You didn't?" asked Bertholdt, nervously.

Ymir laughed, "Hell no! Please, like I ever read!"

"Even Jean takes notes for Ackerman's class," replied Bertholdt.

"Hey!" snapped Jean, as Ymir laughed, "I've been kind of busy with football, thanks. Which, by the way Bertl, if you don't stop skipping practice to watch Annie at cheerleading, Jaeger is going to have your head. Might even kick you off the team if you're not careful."

"I don't think Eren can technically do that," came a quiet voice. Jean looked to see Marco, attempting to give Bertholdt a reassuring look.

"Tch, like you would know, Bodt," scoffed Jean, "Hey, the cheer squad is short one since Petra graduated, though. Maybe you should consider trying out. Seems right up your alley."

Marco's face flushed bright red, and he looked down at the ground, angrily chewing at his lip. Jean smirked, knowing that he had hit a nerve.

"Uhm, no thanks," said Ymir, chiming in, "I'd rather not have a freak of a cheerleader that focuses more on the guys on the field than the routine. We'd like to go to state, you know."

Marco sputtered, eyes beginning to shine with obvious tears, "That's not-"

"Pretty sure it is, Bodt," Jean sneered, looking directly at Marco's freckled countenance, "Unless you're forgetting-"

"Shut-up!" Marco snarled; face contorting in anger, as he lurched forward a bit.

"Oooh-ho-ho, I think you made him angry, Jean," Ymir giggled.

"What about it, bitch?" Marco growled, about to shoot up in his seat.

"Wo-w! I don't think I've ever heard little Marco swear before!" said Ymir, eyebrows raised in a mocking manner, "I'd be angry if it weren't so pathetic."

Jean noticed a single, silent, angry tear make his way down Marco's freckled cheek.

"You really are a freak, there, Marco. Getting so upset over something so minor," Jean grinned in triumph.

"You guys, stop," said Bertholdt, finally, "What if Mr. Ackerman comes back?"

Jean and Ymir settled down a bit at his words, not wanting to get into trouble, but Marco had begun to shake. Jean rolled his eyes, as Marco looked back down at his hands, clenched in anger, but didn't say a word.

That's how it went most days, Jean admitted to himself. He couldn't help but revel in it a bit. It wasn't necessarily Marco's pain that Jean got high on, but the confirmation from him that _he_ had gotten to him, though the confirmation from his peers was nice, too. Marco was a creepy little shit, and everyone knew it. Everyone enjoyed reminding each other of it. It was communal, particularly among the football team and cheer squad, even though the rest of the school didn't exactly like Marco Bodt. Not picking on him would seem like treason, punishable by exile from the group.

And, indeed, the day would go on like that. Marco would drop something, and Jean or one of his friends would be there to steal it, Marco would attempt to answer something in class, and Jean and his friends would laugh, gym class would roll around, and Jean and his friends would do what they could to point out Marco's lack of athletic ability, and call him a faggot and throw deodorant caps at him, as they changed in the locker room. Things were not fun for Marco Bodt at Trost High School, but they were fun for Jean, at least. For right then, anyway. But things have a way on turning themselves over sometimes: And that was exactly what was about to happen.


	2. Hurting You

Enter: the Trost cross country team. Trost High was renowned for its runners, going to state every year, and sometimes even making it nationally. The town was incredibly proud of them. Jean never particularly liked the lot of them all that much. They were far more arrogant then they deserved to be, and in his opinion, they were pretty lame for the most part. He didn't hate them, though. Not yet, anyway. That changed during the Tuesday of the following week.

P.E. was sixth period for Jean, and the last class of the day. That particular Tuesday had been fantastic for him thus far. He'd been improving steadily in football practice over the last couple of weeks. Coach Zacharias really seemed to think they had a shot at state that year; which would be the first time in at least ten years. Trost was notorious for its lack of skill on the field. On top of that, his grades had been improving, particularly in Biology, where he needed it most of all, and he'd had the wonderful opportunity to mess with Marco Bodt not once, not twice, but three times that day.

The first had been early that morning, when Marco had stopped at his locker to grab his stuff for first period. The freckled freak had been so foolish as to leave his backpack on the ground beside him. Jean took the opportunity to run up and punt the bag down the hall, while Marco looked after him, irritably. He'd eventually gotten the backpack back, of course. However, it was far dirtier and the contents inside not all as unbroken as Marco had probably hoped.

The second had been during lunch. Marco notably didn't normally eat lurch in the school cafeteria. However, that day he had decided to chance it, it had seemed. Bad idea. Less than three minutes after Marco had seated himself at a table in the back of the room, Jean had come striding in, plopping down next to him, holding onto a plastic water bottle, uncapped.

"Weeeeell, I don't see you in here often, Bodttie. To what do we owe the pleasure?" asked Connie, who had been with him.

Marco froze in place, jaw clenched.

Jean rolled his eyes, "Yeah, we're gonna need you to fuck off, we plan on filling this table."

Instantly, Marco got up, picking up his tray. However, when he tried to get past Jean, Jean purposefully bumped his arm against Marco's shoulder, spilling his water all over Marco's food and shirt.

Jean half-expected Marco to throw the, now ruined, tray of food at them in retaliation. But instead, he just continued to push past Jean and Connie, going to dump the contents of his tray in the trash, before sulking out of sight, as Jean and Connie laughed their asses off.

The third time had been only moments prior, in P.E. Per normal, Marco was one of the very last kids during laps, breathing hard as he attempted to keep up with his classmates. Glaring at the tired boy, who was sweating through some band t-shirt that had worn out considerably, Jean lapped him, making sure to run just a little too close, startling Marco and causing him to lose his footing, crashing to the hard gym floor. The entire class burst out into fits of laughter.

After class was finished and the rest of the students began to hit the locker rooms, Coach Zacharias had decided to pull Jean aside for a moment.

"Hey, Kirstein! I know I've told you this before, but you've really been pulling your weight on the team lately, and I wanted to show you how appreciative of that Trost is."

"Thanks, coach!" replied Jean, grinning proudly, "I'm just glad the team is doing so well this year in general."

"Exactly! And that's exactly the kind of attitude we need, so I wanted to ask something of you," said Coach Zacharias, patting Jean's shoulder, firmly.

"Y-yeah, coach. Anything you need," he said, curiously.

Zacharias nodded, "Well I don't know if you've heard, but Eren's been really busy lately, perusing multiple hobbies and all that. Not to mention, he's still trying to keep his spot in the top ten." That was the first Jean had heard of Eren perusing other interests. Had he joined clubs? If he'd run off and quit the team to join the chess club with Armin, Jean would never forgive him.

"Anyway," continued Coach Zacharias, "He's been talking to me about electing a co-captain, and I'd appreciate it, and I'm sure the team would as well, if you'd accept the position."

Jean stood, mouth hung open in shock. _Him_ as one of Trost's football captains? He could have screamed in happiness right then and there.

"Y-yes! Yes! Thank you so much, coach! It'd be an honor!"

"Good," chuckled Coach Zacharias, taking Jean's hand and shaking it excitedly, "I'm excited to what your leadership skills can add to the team, outside of your athletic ability, Kirstein."

"Yes, sir!" saluted Jean, before Coach Zacharias turned to leave the gym. He was awestruck. Jean had never really been in a leadership position before; he never really thought of it as his forte. But if Mike Zacharias thought he could manage it, dammit, he'd be the best co-captain Trost had ever seen.

Jean turned to enter the locker room for changing. Pretty much everyone had left already to return home for the evening. However, Jean noticed an uncannily loud shouting coming from behind the door. He shoved it open to reveal who was inside.

Lying in a crumpled heap on the tiled floor was none other than Marco Bodt, attempting to cover his face, which was smeared in blood. One of the sleeves of Marco's beloved grey hoodie bore a massive rip, and Jean could see a red stain there. Above Marco stood Thomas Wagner, captain of the Cross Country Team, as well as two other members of the team: Franz and Samuel. Wagner's knuckles clearly bore Marco's blood on them, and Jean felt his chest and stomach suddenly clench in emotion.

"What the fuck is going on here!" he spat, before he even had any time to think about what he was doing, as he made his way into the boy's locker room.

"Kirstein! Alright, there?"

"I said," Jean hissed dangerously, taking a few steps forward. His mind was reeling, flashes of white-hot anger coloring his thoughts, "What. The. FUCK. Is going on here?"

"Well, you couldn't have come at better time," said Wagner, obviously not catching the venom that Jean's voice currently dripped in, "We were just teaching Marco here a lesson about personal space. Something you know about all too-"

Jean's fist had collided with Wagner's jaw, forcefully, knocking him on his ass.

"Shit!" came Franz from behind Jean. Hearing his voice, Jean turned, tripping him, swiftly, and kicking him in the stomach once he had fallen.

Next came Samuel, who managed to get a couple solid punches to Jean's chin and chest, before Jean got the upper hand, grabbing his classmate by a fistful of hair, and slammed his head into a nearby locker.

Jean turned back to Wagner, who was nursing a bloodied lip. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, WAGNER!" Jean shouted, pointing at the door, angrily, the high from his adrenaline not simmering down any. "NOW!"

The three cross country runners scrambled to stand, heading for the door as quickly as they could. Jean turned his attention to Marco, who was still a mess on the ground, his heart racing in panic.

"MARCO! CAN YOU HEAR ME?" he shouted, crouching down and gingerly taking either side of Marco's bloody face in his hands, shaking him.

"You don't need to shout!" snapped Marco, attempting to pull Jean off of him. Jean held firm, though, tilting Marco's head up to look for sources of injury. He sighed in relief when he found the blood to be coming from a simple bloody nose, instead of any gashes.

"Stay right there, okay?" Jean said, gently, running over to the sink to wet some paper towels, before returning to wipe the blood from Marco's face.

"Ow!" hissed Marco, as Jean bumped a bruising spot just on his right cheekbone.

"Shit, sorry, man," he apologized, dabbing at Marco's face more gently.

The two sat silently for a while, as he cleaned Marco off.

"Why are you doing this?" Marco asked suddenly, as Jean's attention turned to a shallow cut on Marco's arm.

Jean paused for a second, sucking in a quick breath. Why was he doing this? Beating up Marco's attackers and picking him up afterwards. He'd just been so _angry_ and _scared_ when Marco was lying there, bleeding on the floor. He had _needed to act_. Because Wagner was _not _allowed to do that to Marco. _No one _was allowed to do _THAT_ to Marco. Period. Marco may have been his favorite target; but making him bleed was definitely _not_ on the agenda. But how was he supposed to explain that. It sounded…gay. And weird.

"I mean, I'm surprised you haven't done it already," Marco laughed bitterly. Jean's head shot up to see tears in Marco's eyes.

"I would never do this to you, Marco," he replied, bluntly. Internally, he was mortified, though. Did Marco really think so poorly of him? That fucking with him or teasing him or calling him names meant that he would beat the shit out of him, too?

"You make me wish I was dead every other day. Why not just actually try and kill me?" Pained tears began to spill from Marco's dark eyes, unlike the angry ones Jean had witnessed before. His head began to swim for a response, as he felt his chest clench in agony. "_You make me wish I was dead_…" Jean's mocking wasn't a game. It wasn't harmless, it wasn't ever forgotten. He knew it had hurt and upset Marco, that was the point, after all. It made Marco want to _die, _though. And at this realization, Jean forgot how to breathe, as he pulled away from the freckled boy he'd been tending to moments prior.

"M-Marco…" Jean's eyes met Marco's tearful ones, and he could feel tears begin to prick agonizingly at the back of his own eyes, "Y-you need to go to Principal Smith about this."

"With _this_ or with _you_?" Marco asked.

"Both," said Jean, seriously, beginning to choke up. He deserved to be ratted out, and he knew it. It was rare that bullying went seriously punished in Trost. But if it meant making up for making Marco wanting to die….

Marco shook his head, "It wouldn't do any good."

Jean bit his lip, looking down at the floor they were both kneeling on. He knew that Marco was right. But what else could be done about it? He was utter shit, and he knew it now. Sure, Marco was strange, and he wasn't popular. But that could never excuse what Jean knew he had caused. In a backhand way, he _had_ caused Marco to be physically attacked, being the main instigator of Marco's continuing unpopularity.

"Y-you wanna go grab some coffee?" Was all he that could manage to spit out.

Marco looked at him questioningly through tears, as if Jean had lost his mind. Jean certainly felt as if he had.

"I mean, I'll buy…if you want…I mean…" Jean felt so embarrassed and stupid, feeling a single, heated tear sliding down his face. Why was _he_ crying? He didn't deserve to be crying, especially not in front of Marco.

"Sure," said Marco, softly. Jean's head shot up to meet Marco's gaze. Jean noted that he'd stopped crying almost as soon as Jean had started.

"Really?" he asked weakly, but hopefully.

"Yeah, if it'll get you to stop rambling," chuckled Marco, cracking a small smile, before standing up on shaky legs and offering Jean his hand. Jean gladly took it, as the slightly taller boy helped him up.

"Thanks," he whispered, heading over to his locker to get changed before they left.


	3. Heartfelt Apologies

Marco sighed sadly, as he examined the torn sleeve of his favorite hoodie. He draped the article of blood-stained clothing over the passenger seat of Jean's beat-up, dark blue jeep, before getting in, himself. The two boys examined their faces in the vehicle's mirrors, poking at their battle damage. Jean's face, it was noted, was far less marked up than Marco's. Jean took into account that his chin was bruising a tad on the left side. However, he had come out of the locker room scuffle relatively unharmed. The same could not be said for his companion. Jean watched as Marco irritably rubbed at his swollen nose and cheek. Jean felt his chest tighten in anguish again. How dare those cross country assholes lay their hands on Marco? Who the fuck did they think they were? Marco had been _Jean'__s _to mess with, and he'd figured that the school had known that. Apparently not; not that it mattered anymore, anyway. Jean had seen what his joking could bring along with it, and he had zero intentions of ever letting the incident he'd just been witness to occur ever again.

"Have any preferences?" Jean asked, putting his keys in the ignition.

"You invited me out, remember?" replied Marco, shrugging, avoiding Jean's gaze.

Jean looked down at his hands, which were fingering the steering wheel in an awkward manner. He hadn't exactly expected Marco to forgive him; he knew that the chances of that ever happening were slim to none. But he was doing the best that he could, given the situation.

"Alright," Jean said, turning the radio to some top 40 station he knew he wouldn't be able to pay attention to, anyway. Obviously there were the local diners, but they lived in a fairly small town, so it wasn't surprising that there was really only one place in Trost that served really good coffee. However, Hannes' Coffee was the main local hangout of the cheer squad, and if any of them saw Jean with Marco (Jean _buying_ coffee for Marco) he knew that a lot of questions would be asked. Hadn't he promised himself to make up for everything he'd done to Marco the best that he could, though? Being too embarrassed of him to be seen in public together wouldn't really be a great start to the whole apology thing, not that Jean was particularly good at saying sorry to begin with. Saying sorry, which was something he had yet to do verbally.

"Look, Marco," Jean started, as he pulled out of the school parking lot and headed in the direction of the coffee shop. "I'm not good at this. I'm self-absorbed and I'm kind of a dick."

"No kidding?" Marco said, rolling his eyes, but failing to hide a bit of a smirk.

Jean sighed, "I'm sorry…for everything. I know it's not enough – it never will be – but I want you to know that I had no idea that what everyone was doing – what _I _was doing_ - _would affect you like this or cause others to be...just monstrous. I'm never ever going to let something like this happen again, Marco. I promise." He swallowed hard, stomach wracked with nerves.

Jean chanced a glance at Marco, who was noticeably pink in the face, even under his bruises. He quickly looked away, noticing Jean's eyes on him, "Um…thanks? I guess?"

"I do mean it, though," Jean said, hoping that Marco would look at him, as they pulled into the coffee shop's parking lot. Marco didn't respond, though, as the two unclipped their seatbelts and got out of the jeep.

Marco looked up at the shop's sign, a slightly worried look in his eyes, "Hannes'? Aren't you afraid that we'll be seen?" So it had occurred to Marco as well.

Jean took a look around the parking lot, happily not recognizing any of the vehicles there. "No," he responded, feeling a bit more confident. In truth, he had no idea how he'd react if Ymir, or Reiner, or Connie showed up. He'd like to think that he'd tell them the grand story of how he kicked the crap out of the cross country team, and that Marco wasn't a freak anymore, so they'd better start being nice to him, and that they'd all be the best of buddies; but he knew that that was nothing but a fantasy, never to come true. Not at Trost, anyway.

"Come on," Jean called, as he led Marco into the building.

Waving to the barista and ordering their drinks, Jean noticed Marco looking around frantically. Jean realized why.

"Hey, no one we know is here. Everything is fine," comforted Jean, placing a hand on Marco's shoulder. Marco winced in surprise at the contact, and Jean quickly pulled away, worried that he may have put pressure on another one of Marco' bruises. "Even so, I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, okay?" He smiled softly, as Marco looked to him, face full of questions. Something painfully stirred in Jean's chest, looking up into Marco's face. He didn't like the feeling. It made him woozy.

"That's not what I'm worried about," said Marco finally, as their drinks came up to the counter. The two went to sit down at a small booth in the back.

"Then what-"

"What about your reputation?"

Jean was taken aback. Marco was more concerned with how Jean's friends would treat Jean if they saw them together than he did his own safety. Jean could feel his scraped-up face heat up in embarrassment. Marco was ridiculously selfless. Why had he never noticed that before?

"I'm pretty sure it's solid enough that I can be seen hanging out with a dork," joked Jean. Honestly, he was unsure, though. His friends would _definitely_ tease him; that much he knew. But would they make him an outcast? Brand him a freak or a fag, like Marco? The consequences could be dire for the sixteen year old football player.

"You sure about that?" Marco asked, sipping his latte.

"…No," Jean sighed, deciding to be honest. It was the least that he could do, after all.

"Look, I don't exactly expect you to do this regularly or be my friend or anything," said Marco. Wait? They could be friends? Was that even on the table? Jean got strangely excited by the prospect. "…But if you meant what you said, you're going to have to talk your posse down, eventually." Marco's tone was stern, and Jean knew just how serious he'd taken Jean's apology to heart. Good. That meant that Marco didn't see Jean as a complete lost cause after all.

"Marco, I don't expect you to _want_ to do this regularly or be my friend. …But…I…" he found himself looking down at his coffee, hands shaking. Why did Marco make him so nervous all of a sudden? Maybe because the most intimate Jean ever got with his friends was throwing snacks at them after losing at Mario Kart. Marco wasn't even his friend (yet) and here he was, discussing his most sincere regrets with him. He liked having his posse, but he'd never _needed_ someone to accept him the way he needed Marco to accept him right then. To prove that he wasn't as horrible as he knew himself to be? Maybe. But there was just something about the freckled boy who wore gross old hoodies and hung out alone that Jean had never noticed before. He was still trying to figure that one out, though.

"…I wouldn't mind being friends, you know?" he said, quietly, refusing to look up.

"Jean," a freckled hand appeared on Jean's wrist, and he didn't pull away, even as his mind wondered to the incident in the seventh grade that had begun his destructive relationship with the boy across from him. "Are you just taking pity on me? Or do you mean that?"

"I mean it!" Jean exclaimed, head swiftly snapping up, as his eyes met Marco's, "Of course I do!"

"Well, then, I'm not going to let my friend commit social suicide. I know what it's like to be hated, and it's the least fun thing in the world," Marco said, eyes sincere.

"But-"

"No, listen, Jean. I have a plan."

"What d' you mean?" Jean asked, intrigued but slightly worried. Marco had been far more forgiving than Jean knew he had deserved, and the next words to come out of Marco's mouth were sure to only benefit the person who, only hours earlier, had consciously ruined his lunch for a laugh.

"You continue to pick on me-"

"Fuck that!" hissed Jean, pulse beginning to quicken. He wasn't going to walk all over Marco anymore, he had already resolved not to. He'd promised to protect him, and that was exactly what he planned on doing, no matter what self-destructive crap Marco had planned.

"But," continued Marco, ignoring Jean's outburst, "_I_ get to choose the pranks and the insults." He smirked down at Jean, who leaned back.

"No," said Jean, sternly, "I don't want to hurt you anymore, Marco. I don't wanna be that guy."

"You won't be, because I'll be in on it," said Marco, "You can't risk a change in social status. The football team is doing really well this year, right? Not to mention prom is this year. There's just stuff you can't afford to change."

Jean's stomach felt queasy. Marco was right. He couldn't afford to throw away his popularity right then, not if he cared about the next year and eight months of his life. He'd just been elected co-captain of the football team, after all.

"You really are a little shit, you know that?" He grumbled. Marco grinned at him, shyly.

It was a terrible idea, and Jean knew it. Being able to continue to bully Marco, no matter the circumstance, would only encourage others to hurt him, malice intended. On the other hand, it really would save him face. On top of that, it meant seeing Marco for supposed secret planning. That could be a lot of fun, Jean noted. But would it be worth it? Why the fuck did Marco want to save his social standing, anyway? After all the shit he'd put him through?

"We can try it," sighed Jean, at last, "But if something goes wrong I'm just going to have to deal with the consequences. What happened today will _not_ repeat itself, Not if I can help it."

Marco nodded, "Fair enough."

"So, where do you want to start?" asked Jean, leaning back in his seat. "Assuming you already have something in mind."

Marco smirked, "I do, actually. It has to do with rubber bands and one of those talking barbie dolls."

"Dude, where the fuck am I supposed to get a talking doll?" Jean questioned, cocking his head at how weird Marco's plan was sounding already.

"I've got that covered."

"Of course you do," said Jean, rolling his eyes, but cracking a smile at the boy across from him. Marco really was a weird kid, that much he hadn't been wrong about. But Jean liked him, and he owed him. If it was a plan concerning talking barbies and rubber bands he wanted, then talking barbies and rubber bands he would have.


	4. Rubber Bands and Barbie Dolls

Jean was convinced that Wagner and the cross country team would spread around the news about the locker room incident, and how Jean had proven to them that he'd been totally gay for Marco Bodt all along. However, Marco had intelligently reminded him that they'd have to admit to getting their asses kicked if they were to spill anything else about what had happened the previous day. Still, that didn't stop Jean from letting the thought pick away at him in the back of his mind, as he walked into the high school the next morning. He even flinched when Mina Carolina, one of the female members of the cross country team, had nodded at him in greeting as he made his way to his locker to grab his first book for that day. Mina was dating Samuel Linke-Jackson. Perhaps he had at least chosen to confide in his girlfriend? But she showed absolutely no signs that she knew what had happened. It put Jean on edge nonetheless, as the pigtailed runner walked off to meet her friends.

Setting down his bag and pulling out a pack of rubber bands he'd snatched from one of his father's desk drawers, Jean found himself sighing. Marco's idea was hilarious. A few days ago, Jean would have killed to have figured out such an amusing plan. Now it just seemed dumb, though. He'd rather be dragging Connie over to Marco and Armin's outcast corner to compare stories of how he'd shown up three of Trost's favorite runners. Instead he'd be letting Eren Jaeger know that they now shared the title of football captain. It wasn't that he _wasn't_ excited about that. He couldn't wait to see the look on Eren's face when he told him that Coach Zacharius had chosen _Jean_ to co-lead the Trost Warriors to victory. In all honesty, it was Eren's own fault for choosing to "pursue multiple hobbies", whatever the fuck that had meant. Jean had never really seen himself as a leader, unlike Eren and Mikasa who both seemed to head their teams with drive and skill. He was the team's best running back, however, and that meant something, he supposed. It was enough that he had been chosen to rank beside Mr. perfect star quarterback, anyway. He couldn't wait to rub it in his face.

"Jean!"

Speaking of the bastard, he was heading Jean's way, Connie and Mikasa right in step with him.

"Hey, Eren," Jean couldn't help but smirk, cockily, as he turned to face the posse. "So, Coach wanted to talk to me yesterday about you needing a co-captain?" He could feel himself nearly about to burst with excitement, as the look on Eren's face was sure to be full of surprise and contempt.

"Yeah. Congratulations, man. I told him you'd be the best for first choice. Of course, I figured that you'd agree. Your ego would never be able to turn it down." The shit-eating grin that graced Eren's features as he spoke was utterly unfair, and Jean scowled in surprise.

"_You_ wanted me as co-captain? I don't believe you."

"Well believe it," chuckled Eren, not without a hint of arrogance. Jean could tell that Eren wasn't lying, and that made him all the more confused. Jean and Eren hadn't really been what one might call "rivals" since middle school. Jean _guessed_ that the two were technically friends, even. But that didn't prevent an unspoken contempt from forming between the two most of the time. Eren having enough faith in Jean to ask for him as co-captain was not something he had ever expected.

"Oh…uh…I won't let you down?" Jean finally replied, weakly, not knowing what else to do.

"You bet your ass, you won't," laughed Eren, playfully punching Jean's shoulder. Jean stood, staring blankly, as Eren and Mikasa began to walk away. Connie, who was giggling now, stayed behind with Jean.

"Damn, man. You should see your face right now!"

"He did that on purpose to rob me of my victory!" Jean cried, at last, scowling at his friend.

"Yeah," shrugged Connie, "But you gotta admit, he was pretty smooth about it!"

"That makes it worse, douchebag!" Jean whined, turning back to his locker.

"Hey, calm down!" Connie defended, "You're co- captain now, that's great, yeah?"

"Yeah," sighed Jean, picking up the rubber bands again, his thoughts returning to Marco.

"What are those for?"

Jean found himself cringing at Connie's question. He knew that Marco's prank was great. It would have been far more fun if it didn't have the definite possibility of getting Marco into trouble, though, which is why Jean had refused to pull it in Mr. Ackerman's class. It was including other people in the prank that Jean disliked the most. Jean knew he wouldn't hurt Marco, but including others could be dangerous. After the locker room fight, Jean was weary about letting any student in Trost High come within twenty feet of his new friend, never mind pulling pranks on him.

"I've got something new I wanna try on Bodt," Jean said, forcing a smirk Connie's way.

"Go on," replied Connie, suddenly giving Jean his full attention. Jean suddenly decided that he didn't like Connie quite as much as he'd thought he had a moment ago.

Jean lifted up his bag, showing his friend what was inside.

"A Barbie? A naked Barbie? Dude, what the fuck?"

"No, it talks," insisted Jean, defensively.

"Uh, so? That's really gay, Jean."

Jean growled, angrily, wondering if Connie had been the best person to bring in on this prank, "Are you going to let me finish or are you gonna keep asking stupid questions?" To be honest, Jean had said something very similar to Marco when he had handed Jean the doll, after Jean had driven Marco back home, to a little, run-down place in the middle of nowhere.

"It was my sister's before she left," Marco had replied, wrinkling his very bruised nose at the slur Jean had just thrown his way, "She never really got rid of anything."

"I don't remember you having a sister," remarked Jean, throwing the Barbie in his book bag.

"She didn't attend school a lot," Marco had replied, a hint of sadness and bitterness in his tone.

"Oh," Jean had said, not knowing how to perk up the, now, lost-in-thought Marco.

"She left when you and I were only in eighth grade," Marco had continued softly, after several moments of silence had passed, "She was only sixteen, but there was some older guy she said she was in love with. Mom didn't seem to care much. The last time she called, she said she was pregnant. That was five months ago, though."

Jean didn't reply. He didn't know what to say, and his head was swirling with emotions. Marco's life wasn't really that fantastic inside or outside Trost High School, it seemed. And now he trusted a kid who had been his worst antagonizer only hours before with his personal life. Jean was touched, but also very upset. Marco was too honest for his own good, and it worried Jean immensely.

"Sorry, you don't want to hear this crap," apologized Marco, stepping back from the jeep.

"No, it's not that," replied Jean, hastily, "It's just…I wish I could do something, you know? To make you feel better?"

Marco had smiled softly at him, his deep, brown eyes almost gleaming in the light from the inside of Jean's vehicle, and suddenly Jean could feel his breath hitch. He had no idea what was going on in his mind at that moment. He didn't know why seeing Marco bloody and distressed had shaken him up so much, he didn't know why making Marco feel as if his life were worthless had hurt so much, he didn't know why he needed Marco's validation so badly, or why he suddenly felt the dire need to pull Marco into his arms, and promise for what must have been the hundredth time that night that he'd never let anyone hurt Marco again. It had felt like those emotions were hardly new at all, too. As if they'd somehow been there all along, just waiting for Jean to make the right amount of private contact with the school's biggest outcast, before devouring him completely. He felt stupid and embarrassed, but he cared about the kid _so fucking much_. Why did he care so much though? It was a never-ending cycle in his head.

"Uh, heLL-OO? _Are_ you ever going to finish explaining, or what?"

Connie's voice had snapped Jean back to the present. "Shit, yeah, just…yeah," he stuttered, trying to shake the not-so-distant memory from his mind, "Okay, so when Bodt goes to sit down, chances are he'll have his headphones in for the first few minutes before class, right? So he won't be paying attention."

"Uh, sure, I guess."

"So, one of us needs to walk by and put this," he gestured to the doll, "in his hood. But we gotta make sure the back is facing the back of the room. That's where the button is," Jean said.

"Don't we have to make sure he doesn't feel it?" asked Connie.

"Duh," Jean retorted, elbowing Connie, "Now pay attention, because this is where the _real_ fun starts," Jean was trying his best to sound really into the genius prank he had supposedly devised. "We use the rubber bands to set it off. Every time Bodt turns around, while it makes noise, he'll get into trouble."

Connie laughed loudly, "Wow, you're getting fucking fancy, now, huh?"

Jean rolled his eyes in annoyance, "If you don't wanna do it, I'll just ask Reiner and-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! I never said I wasn't in! I'm in!" exclaimed Connie, putting is hands out in front of him, "Jeeze, dude, you're so pushy. What class are we doing this in? Ackerman's? He'll get suspended for sure, then."

"Yeah, and so might we," Jean replied, "We'll do it in Woerman's. He'll be too stupid to focus on anything but the noise."

"What's going down in Woerman's?"

Jean and Connie turned to see Reiner Braun, one of the most muscular players on their football team, who was looking absolutely miserable at the moment, broad shoulders slumped forward and his eyes flickering in thought.

"We're pranking Bodt. Care to join?" asked Connie.

"Yeah," said Reiner, nodding, "I could use it after the news I got this morning."

"What happened?" Jean asked, shoving the pranking contents back into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Krista broke up with me," he said, bluntly, looking down at the ground.

"Dude, why?" Connie asked, clearly taken aback by the news.

"I guess I'm just not her type," replied Reiner carefully, as if trying to choose just the right words.

Krista Lenz and Reiner Braun had begun dating near the end of the last school year. Everyone had been certain that if they could make it through Junior year, they'd end up as the Senior power couple for sure.

"You gonna be okay?" Connie asked, giving Reiner his best sympathetic face.

"I think so," said Reiner, unconvincingly, "I wanted to talk to Bert and Annie about it, but they're probably too busy making out in Annie's truck. I wish they'd just admit to the fact that they're together and get the fuck over it," he snarled.

Jean absentmindedly took a look down at his phone, checking the time, "Shit! It's 8:24!" he hissed, looking to his companions. They had six minutes to get to first period.

"Yeah, we'd better go. I've already been late for English two days in a row now," said Connie, as the three departed.

Reiner had first period Bio with Jean, so he filled him in on the pranking details, there. They still had until third period Algebra before they could execute anything, though. Jean was rather fidgety throughout first period, despite having Reiner there to talk with, as well as Annie and Sasha. He wanted to see Marco, to talk to him. But even in History he didn't have that chance, as Mr. Ackerman launched into his lecture almost immediately, and Marco, seemingly on purpose, gave him no recognition. Jean settled for staring at the back of Marco's head, wondering what was going through his mind, as the freckled student quietly jotted down history notes, as usual.

Jean did his best to catch up to Marco, as the two made their way to Woerman's third period Algebra class, but Marco always managed to stay a few paces in front of him. It was obvious that Marco intended that Jean go through with his plan to humiliate him without any more protest than he'd already received.

Suddenly, Marco's pace began to slow a bit, as crowds of students attempted to enter the classrooms in front of them, and Jean took his opportunity to make his way behind him.

"Ma-"

"Jean," Marco's voice hissed softly, so that only Jean could hear, "I need you to calm down. It'll be fine."

Gently, nervously, Jean pressed his palm to Marco's back, like a timid child, "I don't want to hurt you."

"It'll be fine," Marco repeated, shifting away as the two neared the classroom. Jean paused, letting Marco sit down at his desk before entering the classroom.

Jean noticed Marco's hood, as he neared him. It was conveniently hanging rather widely, with just enough room for Jean to drop the doll in without any issue. He noted that the tear in Marco's sleeve was still there, and it made his stomach clench just a bit. His own wounds had healed relatively easily after icing them and sleeping. Marco, on the other hand was still covered in bruises, some of which had turned a sick yellowy color. He joined Reiner and Connie, who weren't seated far, and dug the rubber bands from his bag.

"Did you see his face?" asked Connie, motioning to where Marco sat, "How the hell did _that_ happen?" He and Reiner turned to look at Jean, who was absolutely horrified by their questioning looks.

"If you're assuming that _I_ did that, I'm going to fuck you up way worse than he is!" Jean snarled, slamming his hands down on his desk.

"Nobody said that, Jean!" came Reiner, defensively. "It's just that you hate him more than anyone, so-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Jean snapped. Heads began to turn, but Jean hardly cared. They'd pushed a major button, and he was pissed.

Embarrassed by Jean's outburst, Connie and Reiner remained quiet, until the class had turned its attention to Mr. Woerman, as he walked to the podium at the front of the classroom. After about five minutes of class had passed, Jean had calmed down, some, and was ready to begin. He offered rubber bands to both Reiner and Connie, and the three aimed for the back of Marco's neck, doing their best to hit the button they knew was inside of his hood.

"Hi, I'm Barbie!"

Connie had hit it on the very first try, causing everyone to turn their attention to Marco, as he spun around in what Jean knew was false-alarm. Mr. Woerman stopped writing the problem they were supposed to be going over on the board, and glared in Marco's direction, saying nothing. After a moment of silence, he went back to writing. Again, the three aimed their rubber bands at Marco's hood.

"I love shopping!" It had been Jean who had hit it, this time. Half of the class began to giggle, as Marco again, looked around for the noise that was so close to his ears, groaning when he saw Reiner, Connie, and Jean. Woerman stopped again, turning to Marco, "Bodt, it that your phone?"

"No," replied Marco, looking frightened. Damn, that kid could act. "It's not me, I swear!"

Woerman grunted, and attempted to go back to the board.

"Wanna have a slumber party?"

"Bodt! That is _clearly _coming from your direction. If it doesn't stop I'm sending you to the office!"

Marco looked down, amongst the sneers, trying to copy Mr. Woerman's work on the board and take diligent notes. The three waited another five minutes before launching the next assault, Connie managing to hit the button, again.

"You're my total bff!"

"Okay, OUT!" snapped Woerman, spinning around, once again. Marco tried to protest, but to no avail, "I warned you, get out of my classroom!"

"Hah, FAG!" one of the kids behind Jean shouted. Jean was fairly sure it was another member of the cross country team. At this rate they'd all end upon his shit list.

Marco sighed, flashing Jean a look, before gathering his things and exiting the classroom.

"That went great!" whispered Connie, low-fiving Jean and Riener.

To Jean, the outcome had been horrible, though. He figured that Marco might end up in trouble; he just hadn't prepared himself for how lousy it would make him feel.

The rest of the day Jean felt like utter shit. It didn't help that so many people stopped to tell him how genius his prank had been or was asked by students that hadn't had third period with him to describe it. Jean just wanted to find Marco and apologize, even if the whole thing had been Marco's idea. However, he didn't see his friend again until sixth period P.E.

The entire class consisted of people picking on Marco, making fun of how gross his gym clothes were, or shouting homophobic slurs at him. Jean didn't join in, much to Marco's puzzlement and seemingly his annoyance, as well. Jean knew that Marco was merely worried about Jean keeping his social standing, but Jean didn't have the heart to jeer.

After school, Jean made sure to hang back, hoping to catch Marco before he got on the bus, home. Luckily, he caught him in the hallway, grabbing a couple books and some homework from his locker. Only the two of them were in the immediate area. "What happened?" Jean asked, coming up behind Marco.

Marco jumped, startled by Jean's presence, "Oh, nothing too bad. I got after school detention."

"They put you in detention for something we did?" Jean huffed, angrily. It wasn't fair. Jean, Connie, and Reiner had made the commotion, and yet the school was punishing Marco.

Yeah, but, I mean, 'could've been suspension, so…."

"_Marco_!" Jean whined, placing both hands on Marco's shoulders, and spinning him around to face him, "This wasn't supposed to happen!"

Marco's face flushed, and he smiled mischievously, "Yeah, but I mean, the plan went off without a hitch, didn't it?"

"No," growled Jean, resisting the urge to pull Marco closer and hug him, protectively, "You got in way more trouble than you were supposed to!"

"Well, I mean, I guess that's the price for-"

"No more pranks," Jean cut him off, insistently, "No more of any of this, I don't like it."

"We can't just stop, and you know it!" insisted Marco, "What _do_ you like if you hate the pranks so much?"

"I like _you!_ Not screwing you over!" snapped Jean. Marco's face went an even deeper shade of red.

"I-I mean…I don't like you like _that_!" insisted Jean, taking his hands off of Marco and taking a step back, feeling his own face begin to heat up.

"I know what you meant," replied Marco, chuckling. His laugh was deep and warm, and it made Jean's insides feel kind of floppy. Not that it meant anything. If Jean was going to like a guy (which he _definitely_ didn't) it wasn't going to be the one he made fun of for being gay all of the time.

"I'll try and hide it the best that I can," said Jean, trying to calm down, "But I can't do this anymore. It doesn't feel right."

"A lot sure changed in you over the last twenty-four hours," Marco noted, tilting his head.

"I dunno man," Jean rambled, "Maybe I was just really stupid. Or maybe I've been trying to convince myself that you were someone you weren't, or that _I_ was someone I wasn't. But you're giving me a chance to make things okay. I want them to be okay. _Actually_ okay."

"...You're weird." It was Marco's turn to say it, as the two stared at each other, not quite knowing how to feel of what to say.

Jean laughed a little, before looking down at his feet, "I need to get to practice. I'll drive you home, though. Meet me in the parking lot after detention?" he asked, timidly.

"Yeah," Marco nodded, gently bumping into Jean's shoulder with his own, giving Jean the soft, caring smile he had found himself thinking about far too often over the past day.

The two of them began their separate ways, when Jean accidentally bumped into a short, blond girl wearing a red and yellow tank top and athletic pants.

"Sorry, Krista, I didn't see you!" He paused, noting just how close she had been to Marco and Jean's conversation. "Wait... Did you-"

Krista nodded and giggled.

"Shit," sighed Jean. He was so dead. "Look, it's a long story, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread it around quite yet. Please?"

"I understand, and I won't. Promise," she smiled. Understand? What did she understand?

But before Jean could ask, though, Krista was already on her way to the multi-purpose room for cheer practice.

"Understand?"


	5. Revelations

The next handful of weeks were both very difficult and incredibly thrilling for Jean. The day that Marco had gotten detention, Jean was supposed to have driven him home, but he had decided to drive out to the nature trails on the other side of town, instead. Marco really didn't seem to mind, as Jean happily dragged him through the woods, chattering absent-mindedly about how football practice had gone. Jean had figured that going back to the home he didn't exactly seem to treasure much was not the first thing Marco really wanted to do. He had felt absolutely exhilarated, as the two rampaged about in the open, like small children. At one point they had grabbed some small, fallen branches that they had found lying along the pathway, and began to fence with them. Jean was much more agile than Marco, and it didn't take long before Marco would be out of breath from trying and failing too many times to lightly smack Jean in the stomach with his stick.

It was just so fantastic to see Marco smile, which was a rare occurrence for him, unless the two were alone. His normally solemn face would radiate with happiness, freckles stretching over his cheekbones. Marco's dark brown eyes would flicker with thoughts that Jean couldn't quite make out, like a candle's flame finding its second wind after almost dying out, only moments prior.

After that first day, it became routine for the two of them to hang out after school, whenever Jean didn't have practice to attend. During school hours he did his best to avoid Marco, so that none of his friends became suspicious. When someone would make a joke about Marco or insult him, Jean would force himself to laugh about it, but would internally drown in self-loathing. Jean longed for the days when Connie, Reiner, and Ymir would skip the classes he and Marco had together, so that he could pluck up the courage to sit beside his new friend, even if it was in knowing silence most of the time. Ackerman began to slowly integrate more and more group work into his classes, as well, always putting Jean and Marco together, despite the fact that who the other students they were placed with changed around a lot. This could be a blessing when his friends were not in class, and a curse whenever they were, forcing Jean to give everyone the full-out silent treatment, brushing it off as exhaustion. However, the opportunity be open around Marco in class was becoming less and less frequent as the weeks went by, due to the fact that members of the football team needed to keep their C averages in order to play, and Ymir had just been named co-captain of the cheer squad, meaning that if she wanted to keep the position, paying attention and doing homework were musts. Jean was curious about this predicament. First Eren needed a co-captain, and now Mikasa? What kind of "multiple hobbies" were the two of them running off to pursue?

The more time Jean spent with Marco, the harder it became for him to hide his affection for him during school hours, and, indeed, their secret friendship was probably the very best part of Jean's life. It was lucky that Marco spent most of his free time at school away from Jean, or their cover would have been blown within the first few days after the locker room incident. The cross-country team hadn't ratted them out yet, but rumors about Marco's busted face had begun to circulate. The rumor was, as Jean had expected, that he had inflicted Marco's wounds. This only caused Jean to become more furious with the student body, as he snapped with contempt at anyone who approached him about the subject. His relationship with Wagner, Franz, and Samuel had only become more antagonistic as the weeks went by, as well. It was a common occurrence to witness the group glaring at him, whilst talking among themselves. It had gotten to the point where some of his friends were noticing, and Annie had even offered to kick Wagner's ass. Jean had declined, regretfully, not wanting to give anything away.

"You know, people think I did this to you," Jean had commented one day, as the two sat in Marco's kitchen, Jean gingerly pressing a covered ice pack to the bridge of Marco's slowly healing nose. Marco's mother worked most nights, so the boys had the house to themselves.

"I'm well aware," said Marco, hissing at the sting. He had insisted multiple times that Jean didn't need to doctor him, but Jean was stubborn. He had gotten Marco into this mess, and he intended to fix it in any way he knew how. "I'd love to see their expressions if they knew how much of a mom you are about it, too."

Jean chuckled, "They could know, you know. We've won both of our last games, and moral is really high. I don't think-"

"You want to keep doing well don't you?" Marco had an irritating habit of cutting Jean off whenever he tried to suggest integrating Marco into his group of friends.

"We'll do fine," Jean said, confidently, "You know, hanging out with people besides just me could be really good for you, Marco."

"I hang out with Armin," Marco replied, as Jean pulled back the hand that had been holding the ice pack to Marco's face.

"You know what I mean," Jean rolled his eyes.

"You don't get it. And I don't get you," said Marco, shaking his head, "I mean a couple of weeks ago you hated my guts, now you want me to join your ranks?"

A pang of hurt found its way to Jean's chest. Marco was really fantastic at reminding him of his recent past.

"What I mean to ask is: Why?" Marco looked up at Jean from his seat. It was the same question he had asked Jean after the locker room fight, as he had wiped the blood from Marco's face. Jean sighed in irritation. Explaining it would sound so stupid, he knew. It really wasn't worth it, but Marco was so damn persistent. "Why do you randomly care about me now, Jean? You don't need to be here."

"I want to be here," shrugged Jean, walking over to Marco's freezer to put back the ice pack, and avoiding Marco's hard gaze.

"Why, though?" It was obvious that Marco knew that Jean was avoiding the question.

"I have a better question," came Jean, turning to his friend and leaning, his back against the counter, "Why, after all of the shit I've put you though since middle school, do you put up with me? Like, why did you ever even forgive me? I don't exactly deserve it."

It was Marco's turn to loudly sigh, rubbing the back of his freckled neck in embarrassment and thoughtfulness. "I dunno. I guess I just felt like you meant it when you told me you didn't want to hurt me anymore. Like you barely knew you'd ever done it to begin with. Your sincerity and…ignorance? I don't know…."

And, suddenly, Jean could feel his legs, almost involuntarily, move. He almost ran the few steps it took to get to the other side of the room to Marco, and wrapped his arms around Marco's shoulders, resting his head on Marco's and squeezing him tightly. Marco squeaked in surprise. Jean had never hugged Marco before, but it was a phenomenon that they both could definitely get used to. Jean breathed in deeply, heart racing. Quickly letting go and apologizing for the awkwardness crossed his mind, but he decided against it, burying his nose into Marco's hair.

"J-Jean…" Marco's voice was high and shaky, as he reached up to grab Jean's arms, not to pry him off, as Jean had expected, but to hold onto.

"I've been doing a lot of the wrong things for a long time now," Jean murmured into Marco's scalp, "And I never even realized how much they'd affect you. And as for why I stepped in when Wagner was wailing on you, well, I don't really know, myself. I just saw you and I got so _angry_, Marco. I've _never _been that angry in my life, and I grew up as Jaeger's neighbor until fifth grade."

Marco laughed softly at this. Jean could feel Marco's pulse. It was going every bit as wild as his was, much to Jean's chagrin. Did being so close to Jean scare Marco? That was the last thing he had wanted.

"But…" came Marco's voice feather-light, "Everyone treats me like that. You did. Why go through the trouble?"

Jean swallowed, knowing what he was about to admit to would sound terrible in every way possible. He closed his eyes, to strain for the reaction, "Because you're special, Marco. You always have been. It sounds horrible. Like, the worst. But I guess I just kind of claimed you, or whatever. Or thought I had in some warped way."

Jean had expected Marco to pull away, which he did. He wasn't expecting the outburst of laughter, however.

"How is that funny?!" exclaimed Jean, taking a surprised step back, "It's horrible!"

"Well, yeah, it is," Marco agreed between side-splitting laughter, "But it's also super gay. Like, gayer than me."

Jean went hot with embarrassment, "You shut your fucking mouth, you- …wait, what?" He stopped to look at Marco, face flushed and amber eyes wide.

"Y…You outed me to the entire school? Remember?" Marco's eyes narrowed in questioning, "Like, you call me a faggot all the time, dude, you can't….Did you not think I was actually gay?"

Jean just stared, astonished at the words that had come out of Marco's mouth, attempting to register the situation in his mind. Marco was gay. Marco was _actually_ gay. He liked dick. Like, full on liked it. Jean had no idea what was going on anymore.

"Jean? I pretty much asked you out at the seventh grade spring dance. That's how this whole thing…I mean…" Marco sputtered, "You really didn't know?"

"I mean…" Jean started, finally trying to speak, "I thought, _maybe_, but like…for real?"

"Yeah," chuckled Marco, "For real. You don't mind, do you?"

"No!" exclaimed Jean, "I mean not if it's real, I mean…why me, though?" he had blurted out the first thing that strongly came to mind.

"I was the new kid and you were nice to me," Marco shrugged, looking down at is hands, "You made me feel comfortable when I thought I was alone. My parents had just gotten a divorce; my mom barely paid attention to my sister or me. I thought you cared and I was vulnerable and young."

Jean shivered at Marco's words, and an heavy lump began to form in his throat.

"I'm sorry I let you down," Jean said, in what was barely a whisper.

"I was dumb," Marco responded, chancing a look at Jean, "I didn't know how to express my feelings and I was inappropriate. It scared you, that happens."

Jean swallowed, uncomfortably. Marco was offering him a way out, and he knew it. It was true, that the two of them had been friends in middle school. It didn't last after that dance, though, when Jean had told Connie and Reiner, and due to that, the entire school, about Marco's advances. It wasn't even that he had hated Marco, or had even been mad at him for the incident. He was just afraid that someone may have seen and might decide to crush any hope Jean had of a social life, which was exactly what he had done to Marco in the end. He had thrown him under the bus to save himself. If only he hadn't been so closed-minded and afraid as a pre-teen. Then, maybe he and Marco….

"I should have realized how straight you were with the way you followed Mikasa around," joked Marco, "It's just a dumb mistake I made at thirteen, you know?"

"…Yeah," Jean replied, softly. That's right, he was definitely straight. He'd had such a massive crush on Mikasa throughout grade school, until he'd finally given up on the idea of dating her sophomore year due to constant rejection. Definitely heterosexual.

"You know, I never see you at any of my games," Jean said, randomly changing the subject, hoping to avoid talking about his and Marco's pained, shared past.

"Well, sports aren't really my thing, so…"

"Even Armin goes to football games," said Jean, defensively, "Everyone has a good time at a football game, sports fan or not. You really do need to get out more. You should go to one." It was true that as of late, Jean found himself scanning the bleachers every now and then for Marco, partially because he wondered if he ever participated in school events that weren't required, and partially (mostly) because he just really wanted to see his friend in the crowd, cheering for him, even (especially) if it meant that he was cheering for Jean, alone.

Marco's eyes glinted in a way that told Jean that Marco knew something that he did not, "That is _not_ why Armin goes to the football games."

"Well he must have some reason to go," huffed Jean, crossing his arms, childishly.

"He goes for Eren and Mikasa," replied Marco, voice casual, but eyes calculating.

"Armin doesn't even hang out with Eren and Mikasa anymore," said Jean, skeptical. It was true that Eren and Mikasa were still friendly with their childhood companion, but since joining their respective sports and rising to the utmost height of popularity, it was rare to see all three of them together.

"You'd be surprised at how much time they make for each other," Marco said. Jean was bringing to grow very suspicious of Marco's motivations, as each new word falling from his lips seemed to be more and more plotted out.

"Well," Jean smirked, "If he goes for them, you should go for me! You're my best friend, Marco, please?"

Marco leaned back a bit, a quirky look of disbelief written on his freckled face.

"What?" Jean questioned, not sure for the reasoning behind Marco's expression.

"You just called me your best friend," replied Marco, voice full of exuberance, "D' you mean that?"

"Yes," responded Jean, automatically. He didn't know when he and Marco had reached the point where Jean had started thinking of Marco as his best friend. He was definitely his favorite friend, not that it took much, considering how douchey his other friends could be. But he knew, looking at how happy the title had made Marco, that it was true, and that it would stay.

The two boys smiled foolishly at one another for a few moments before Marco caved.

"Fine, but on one condition."

"Anything," smirked Jean, excitement practically radiating off of him.

"You have to come and see my band play at Dot's Pub next week, Friday."

"You're in a band?!" cried Jean, "Why did you never tell me this?" It shouldn't have surprised Jean as much as it did, considering how into music Marco seemed to be. He rarely saw him without his headphones in, whenever he spotted Marco in the hallways.

"You never asked," chuckled Marco, "We kind of formed over the summer. We're called Winged Aggression."

That definitely sounded like the kind of band that made the angry, rockish music Marco usually listened to.

"We're a pop to metal cover band, actually. We all suck at writing." Marco put in, almost as if he'd read Jean's mind.

"Pop music?" Jean laughed, "That's so unlike you."

"Pop _covers_," Marco corrected him, grinning.

"So, like, do you drum, or what?" Jean asked, curiously.

"I sing, actually." Marco began to giggle fiercely at the astonished look Jean gave him.

"You're just full of surprises, you know that, Bodt?"

"So we got a deal, or what, bestie?" Marco asked, cockily leaning back in his chair.

"Obviously!" Jean remarked, "Like I'd miss an opportunity to hear you sing some Brittany Spears shit."

"I've never sung Brittany Spears," Marco scoffed, in offense, "I do have better taste then that, at least. Cut me some slack."

"Sure," grinned Jean, teasingly, as Marco pouted.

The two spent the next hour together, chatting about nothing in particular, as they normally did, until Jean's mom called him, demanding he get home and eat with his family, something she was still adamant about, despite the fact that he wasn't child anymore.

Getting into his vehicle and making his way out of Marco's gravel driveway, Jean smiled to himself. It had been a crazy first month of school; He was football co-captain, Marco Bodt was his best friend, and he would be cheering him on at their next game. Oh, and he knew that Marco was gay now. For certain. For real. For some reason, that fact made him feel just as happy and out of place as everything else did. He refused to think about it, though. He did enough stupid things without obsessing over the airy strain he now felt in his chest, as he made his way back home. Seventh grade had been a long time ago, and Jean knew that it was best to leave the past in the past.

_"Unless it's bleeding into the present," _a tiny voice in Jean's head uttered. It definitely was not the thought he had wanted to have.

"Fuck."


	6. Marco's First Football Game

The Trost Warriors had been undefeated so far that year. However, it was barely October, meaning that the football team still had a long way to go before state could even be seen as a possibility. Still, that didn't change the fact that everyone was in high spirits due to the continuous success they had tasted. No one was more pumped up for the next game than Jean. Not only had he been doing an absolutely fantastic job of helping Coach Zacharius and Eren whip the team into shape, but he'd have Marco there to see how great of a captain and player he was. Jean wanted to show off, plain and simple, and he was beyond excited to have the opportunity to do so.

The game coming up was to be a home game against Rose High, one of the largest schools in the district. They were certainly one of the better teams in the district, though they'd lost the championship to Sina three years in a row. Still, the fact that they had made second place for so many consecutive years meant that they'd be tough to beat. Jean was confident. He'd convinced Coach Zacharius to schedule a couple of extra-long practices the week before in order to prepare, much to the gripe of some of the players. They were ready.

There was very little locker room chatter where Jean was concerned. He was far too busy thinking about Marco. According to him, he'd never been to a school sporting event in his life. This didn't surprise Jean in the least, seeing as how Marco wasn't exactly treated exceptionally by the members of the sports teams of Trost, or the school, itself. And yet, he was attending just for Jean. Obviously there was the fact that Jean had, in return, agreed to go to Winged Aggression's gig. But to be honest, he would have gone, regardless. Jean closed his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine what Marco's singing voice was like. Would it be deep and angry, like most of the artists Marco seemed to enjoy? Or would his voice be more soulful? Boyish maybe? It was probably beautiful, either way. He couldn't wait to find out.

"You okay, Jean?"

Jean opened his eyes to see Bertholdt, staring at him, awkwardly.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" Jean could feel himself heat up, immediately, and his pulse quickened. "Just nerves, you know?" Yeah. That was it.

Bertholdt nodded, though he looked unsure, "It's alright. I always get a little nervous before a game, too."

"You get nervous before you take a piss," teased Reiner, joining the two.

"You're co-captain, you're not allowed to be nervous," joked Connie, nudging Jean from behind. Before Jean could retort, however, the sound of the pep band playing cut through the air.

"Time to go," Jean commanded, looking over to Eren, who had been chatting with a few of the other guys. He nodded back, strapping on his red and yellow helmet, and joined Jean up front, to lead the entry.

The trumpets and drums were near ear-splitting with their loudness. Luckily Jean's helmet helped to block out some of the sound. He looked around, as he and his teammates took their positions. Right in the middle of the home side of the stands, wrapped in a humongous red quilt sat Marco Bodt, accompanied by Armin Arlert, who was waving around a small red and yellow Warriors pennant. Jean and Marco's eyes locked, and Jean felt a violent shiver course through his body, enthusiastically. Marco smiled widely, and gave a small wave.

Coach Zacharius stood on the sidelines, beside the cheerleading coach, Nanaba, beaming with pride. The height difference was hilarious, and Jean couldn't help but let out a chortle, before turning his complete attention to the Rose team.

The entire first two quarters were a mess. Bertholdt fumbled twice, Connie couldn't seem to pay attention whenever Eren needed him for a pass, two of their guys had gotten taken out due to injury, and a good chunk of Trost's defense were just too slow and never quite hit hard enough. Jean didn't have a clue as to why his team was so out of sorts. They had been training rigorously and doing so well, and yet, somehow, they were failing. It made absolutely no sense, and Eren was clearly getting more and more angry with every play. Jean had to admit, even he was getting fed up with how many mistakes his team was making, and coach screaming from the sidelines didn't help at all. Jean would look up occasionally, between plays, to see Marco and Armin, talking animatedly, pulling slightly worried faces. This was not how Jean had wanted Marco's first impression of his football team to go. At least he seemed to be getting into it, however, laughing animatedly, as Armin shouted some rather colorful insults at both sides, whenever Trost would lose the upper hand. Who knew he had it in him?

Halftime was miserable. Jean was sure that coach would have their heads. But, to his surprise, Mike Zacharius didn't even enter the locker room. He just allowed his silent disappointment to settle on the shoulders of his team.

"We have to do something!" shouted Reiner, fiercely, "Are we just going to let those pussies ruin our perfect streak, or what?"

"I'm really sorry guys," said Connie, eyes downcast, "I've been shit tonight."

"We've _all_ been shit tonight," commented Jean, trying to comfort his friend.

"That's not helping, Jean!" snapped Eren, who had been fuming for the past five minutes in a corner.

"It's the truth, though," Jean said, bluntly.

"That doesn't mean you need to say it!" Eren growled, "Moral is kind of critical here, you know."

"I'm pretty sure moral can't get much worse, Eren. We're six and thirty-two!" Jean argued.

Eren crossed the locker room in a huff, getting right up in Jean's face. Jean was on edge now. How the hell did Eren expect Jean to treat the situation lightly? They were going to lose their first game of the year. It wasn't the end of the world, but Jean knew they didn't have a chance in Hell of climbing out of the hole they had dug themselves into.

"Why the fuck did I want you as my co-captain again?"

"I don't know!" Jean spat back, "But apparently you're too busy doing God knows what else to dedicate any time to the team to lead it properly, anyway! Maybe _that's_ why we're sucking so badly!"

Eren sneered, "Fuck you, Jean! You don't-"

Suddenly, the locker room door slammed open. The entire team turned, startled. There stood Armin Arlert, holding a pen and notepad in one hand, and blushing a deep crimson color. "Sorry," he muttered, "I didn't expect it to be so loud."

"Are you even allowed to be in here?" asked one of the players.

"Never mind that," said Armin, hastily, making his way through the mass of sweaty high schoolers, and over to where Jean and Eren stood, about to tear one another apart only moments prior.

"You guys are being destroyed out there," said Armin, pulling Eren down on a bench, beside him.

"No shit, Sherlock!" snapped Jean. Eren kicked at him, in irritation.

"I've been observing Rose's plays closely," Armin continued, ignoring the tension between Jean and Eren, clicking his pen and putting it to the notepad, "And I don't think it's your lack of skill that's putting you off, I think you're just not used to their style."

"What do you mean?" asked Connie, sitting beside Armin, eyes glued to the paper Armin was doodling on.

"Have you noticed the builds of all of Rose's players?" Armin asked, "They're _all_ humongous. All of them. None of them are the smaller, quicker type, like you or Jean."

Connie tilted his head, "So, they're trying to psych us out, or…."

"Yes, but that's not all," replied Armin, "The major flaw in their team is that they're pretty much all defense," he circled the offensive positions on his paper, "There are no strong offensive players, they hit like a MAC truck, but they're slow. As long as you don't let their size get to you, the defense should be able to stop them from making any more points. You've just gotta hit harder."

"But we'll still lose," Jean pointed out, "Even if Rose doesn't score another point, how are we supposed to stop them from destroying us when they're on defense?"

"Well, for starters, you all need to calm down. And I mean calm down a lot," Armin commented, "Bertholdt, you looked terrified out there. You're the biggest guy on the team. What's up?"

All eyes were on Bertholdt Fubar now. He fidgeted anxiously, "I don't know. Like you said, those guys out there are huge; they took out Daz and Boris within the first quarter. There was a lot of blood, and I don't want to disappoint anyone…I don't know…."

Jean was taken aback, as the majority of the players nodded in sympathy. They were all that nervous? Was it really nerves and the fear of being pummeled that was bringing his team down so fiercely? Eren had seemed fine; although Eren was always raring to go under pressure, not caring much for his own physical well-being. But Jean hadn't been worried either. Jean, who was always the first to back down when it came to any situation he thought might endanger him. That was why he was still willing to block Marco from his public life, despite how shitty it felt. Marco. Marco, who he had convinced to attend that very football game, Marco, who he had been so desperately trying to impress all night, Marco, who, when he had scored the only touchdown in the entire game, had been the only thing on Jean's mind. Jean had been so focused on Marco that he had ignored the blatant danger that everyone else had seemed to pick up on.

"Bertholdt," Jean said, softly, but commanding. His taller friend turned to him, timidly. "Do it for Annie."

"Wh-What?" came his reply.

"When you're out there, and you're facing one of those monsters, protecting Eren or whoever; do it for Annie. She is watching you, you know. Cheering for you, probably just for you. She loves you, you know?"

The room was silent, and the entire team and Armin stared at Jean in both questioning and awe. They probably wondered when someone as dickish as him became so sentimental. Jean was wondering it, himself, after all. Or maybe they just all thought he was a total loser.

"Let's…just get back out there. And fucking win this time, even if we have to get our skulls cracked," said Reiner, stepping up to Bertholdt's side. Bertholdt, however, had a tiny smile on his face, and nodded, confidence slowly beginning to shine through.

The team left the locker room to re-take their positions on the field, as Armin slinked off to rejoin Marco in the stands. Marco gave Jean a thumbs up from huddled within the giant quilt he had. God, he was just too adorable. In a total friend way, of course. Friends could be adorable, and not just to girls.

Eren snapped the ball, and the second half of the game had begun.

Much to Jean's surprise, it was Bertholdt who was the quickest and sharpest responder in the game. When Connie got hold of the ball and went for their second touchdown, he wasn't afraid in the least to get right in the face of the guy closest. It was like he had a completely new air about him, as the points began piling up. And because of it, the two teams were tied in no time. It was absolutely incredible, what a team obsessively fueled by the desire to impress loved ones could manage. Coach Zacharius whooped with happiness, as the offense scored over and over again, much to the disarray of Rose. The cheerleaders and the crowd became louder and louder with excitement, until the entire place was completely overrun by adrenaline. They went into overtime, and didn't allow Rose's team to score once, truly putting their ambition and practice to the test. And before Jean knew it, it was over, and they had won by a touchdown and a field goal.

The field and the stands erupted in cheers, and Jean tore off his helmet to look about more clearly. One might have thought that it had been a far more important game from the noise that was being made. The cheerleaders and a few family members rushed the field to congratulate the home team. Out of the corner of his eye, Jean saw Bertholdt, lifting Annie in the air and spinning her around in triumph, and Jean smiled.

Then, he looked to see a trio of faces in front of him. Two of them belonged to Armin and Mikasa, obviously there to congratulate Eren. The other, however, was Marco's. Jean felt his heart speed up so much that he was slightly worried that it might just leap out of his chest. Marco was actually going to be seen with him in public. Did he finally wish to let go of their status as secret friends? Jean rushed forward, excitedly. Marco beamed at him, darting through the crowd, blanket forgotten in the stands.

Then, Jean's path was blocked by someone's back.

"Hey, Marco, what are you doing out here? Are you lost?" It was Nac and Tom, two other members of the football team.

Marco opened his mouth to respond, but Nac kicked him in the shin, knocking him to the ground. Memories of Marco, bloody and beaten in the gym locker room, flashed through Jean's mind, and he struggled madly against the rush of bodies, like a rabid dog, to reach his friend. It was so loud and crazy, that no one really noticed what was going on. They were all too swept up in the team's success.

"MARCO!" Jean shouted, dropping his helmet and shoving someone's mother aside to work his way beside Nac. Nac and Tom turned, as Jean approached. He shoved them aside, violently, to get to Marco.

"Jean," said Marco, shakily, "It's okay, I'm alright."

"Like hell you are," snarled Jean, about to face Tom and Nac, ready to start a fight in the middle of the field, not caring who was around. However, he never got the chance, as a new body came, and collided with his, angrily, throwing him onto the grass.

"What the hell are you doing Jean?!" It was Eren.

"The fuck-" But Eren cut him off.

"Can't you leave him alone for just _one_ day? We're not even in school! God, Jean, you're such an asshole!"

"What are you talking about?!" Shouted Jean, getting to his feet, looking around for Nac and Tom, who had disappeared in the crowd. Eren started toward him, but Marco suddenly made his way in front of Jean, in a flash, holding out his arms, protectively.

"Stop, Eren! It's not what you think! He didn't do anything."

Eren paused, lifting his eyebrows in curiosity. Jean didn't have time to waste, playing twenty questions with his co-captain. Quickly, he spun Marco around, pulling him close, and enveloping the taller boy in a sweaty, needy embrace. Marco let out a soft sound of surprise, before returning the hug, clinging to Jean tightly.

"Are you okay?" Asked Jean, looking over Marco similarly to the way he had on the first day of their friendship.

"Yes, Jean, I'm fine. I promise," laughed Marco, gently pulling Jean's hand away from his face.

"I'm sorry," said Jean, solemnly, "I wasn't there fast enough. I should've-"

"It's alright," Marco assured him, this time being the one to cradle his face. Jean's inside fluttered uncomfortably, and he found himself leaning into Marco's touch, sighing softly.

"WOAH! Hello!"

Jean and Marco turned to see Connie, Sasha, and Reiner, who had approached them and were now gawking at the two of them in shock.

"Don't you say…a fucking word," hissed Jean. Marco stepped back, attempting to give some space between him and Jean. But it was too late. Jean placed a hand on Marco's shoulder, protectively. "I am not ashamed of you," he said, a serious look on his face. The fact that he even had to say it at all made his heart ache.

Luckily, Sasha, Connie, and Reiner held their tongues for once, and Marco turned back to Eren, who was being joined by Mikasa and Armin.

"How long has this been going on?" asked Eren, "What even is _this_?"

Jean took a step back. Was Eren implying them to be a couple?

"About a month," admitted Marco, shyly, "It's kind of a long story."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Eren asked, looking slightly hurt.

"Why would he tell you anything?" Jean asked, not sure exactly what was going on or why Marco was suddenly so familiar with Eren and Mikasa.

"Jean," said Marco, gently, "Eren, Armin, and Mikasa are three of the five members of my band."

"Wait, what?" Jean was dumbfounded. All this time the head cheerleader and star quarterback had been jamming out with Marco, and no one even knew it. _That_ had to be the "other hobby" that Eren and Mikasa had been perusing. "If you're in a band with them, why couldn't I be nice to you at school?" Jean demanded, not sure if he was truly upset yet or not.

"Well it really wasn't known about," said Marco, a pained expression crossing his face, as he looked over to Reiner, Sasha, and Connie, "Until now."

"Goddammit," Jean hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to process everything his best friend had just told him. Marco was friends with three of the most popular kids in school, and yet he had chosen to remain an outcast during school hours just because he was afraid of embarrassing them with his presence.

"Marco, you idiot," Jean finally sighed. Marco looked to him eyes darkened with worry. Jean wrapped his arms around Marco's neck, pulling him in for a second hug. "I am _never_ going to let anyone touch you again. And I'm not going to let you avoid me anymore. That entire idea was stupid to start with." He let go of Marco and turned to Eren, Armin, and Mikasa, "And you three had better swear the same damn thing. This has gone on for long enough." Normally, Jean wouldn't even dream of speaking to Mikasa in such a manor, as she had a pretty fierce reputation. However, Marco's well-being was far more important that whatever the repercussions might be.

Much to Jean's surprise and delight, the three of them nodded, agreeing wordlessly. Marco looked around in amazement at his friends, at a loss for words.

"Well, Jean, I'd say I never pinned you for a queer, but then I'd be lying." It was Ymir. She was being followed by Krista, who anxiously pulled at her top, trying to stop her from charging over.

"I swear to God Ymir! I will punt you across this fucking field!" shouted Jean. Only a month ago, he and Ymir had been berating Marco with homophobic slurs of all kinds. Now Jean was on the receiving end of her words.

"Better put on your fairy heels first, kiddo. Since that's obviously more your style."

"Ymir, please!" Krista begged. Ymir shook her off, irritably.

"What, Krista? You gonna defend these fags now? Maybe you have a crush on one of them? Well, sorry to tell you, but they're a little more preoccupied with each other's dicks!"

Krista's eyes grew wide in shock, and her sweet, loveable face slowly began to twist in anger, "Why are you so mean? They didn't do anything to you!"

"I have to look at them, don't I? What if they're contagious?"

"Ymir internalized homophobia isn't-"

"Internalized?!" Ymir was quick to cut Krista off, "Oh, I've got it! You're a fag, too, aren't you, Krista! Wow, even my best friend! I need to get the fuck out of here," Ymir shouted, stuttering a bit. And with that, the left the group of them on the field.

Krista sniffled a little, and Jean saw tears welling up in her large, blue eyes. Reiner was the first to respond, putting a large hand on his ex-girlfriend's shoulder in understanding.

"_I guess I'm just not her type_," Reiner's words from the day they had pranked Marco rang through Jean's head. How careful he had sounded, despite how sad he had felt. "_I understand,_" Krista's mysterious words, upon finding Marco and Jean talking in the hallway. Did Krista like Marco? But Marco was gay; and Jean had a feeling the Krista knew it. "_Internalized homophobia…"_ so Krista was calling Ymir gay? It didn't make sense. Unless….

"Krista, do you _like_ Ymir?" Jean asked, before even realizing what he was doing. Krista burst into tears. Reiner glared at Jean, angrily, and he did his best to soothe her.

"Krista, it's okay," Marco said, approaching the two, "I know what it's like, to be treated like that by someone you care about." Jean cringed, knowing that Marco was implying him, "But it gets better, I promise. Keep your head up. She's just scared. She doesn't understand me, or you, or possibly even herself. Not yet, anyway. Everything will be okay."

Krista smiled shakily up at Marco, nodding gently, and took his hand.

"It's been a long night," Jean commented, rubbing his eyes, "And I'm starving. You guys wanna go grab some pizza or something?"

They all agreed, Sasha never being one to pass up a meal, and Connie and Reiner eager to hear more about the development of Jean and Marco's friendship. Krista still needed comforting, and Eren, Mikasa, and Armin all looked famished. And so, the group set off to find wherever Annie and Bertholdt had managed to wonder off to, and then went to enjoy their first meal as, with the notable exception of Ymir, a complete group.


End file.
